Broken Glass

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I had an enlightened agenda
but it was the ocean that moved me slowly into a time
where it doesn't matter what's said
there is no ryhme

There was a style in mind
that led the blissful
to believe and
to seduce his lonely kind
into believing that the
solace existed
in grey haze and youthfule mazes
we forget the reality of pain
when remembering the actuality of the mundane

it all existed in a dream
inside sands of beige and
jagged fetus's of glass
that became a dna footprint of a window's fatal stream

because the memory chooses to forget
what it never wants the plain genius to see
I thought I knew this long ago
I thought I knew the scene





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